What's that? A quick update? You're welcome, friends. You're welcome. Hoping you enjoy this chapter - for you Thranduil/OC shippers, I hope this one pleases your shipper hearts.
"You cannot enter!"
The voice split through Erulastiel's throbbing head, rousing her from the deep sleep. Lazily opening her eyes, she found herself in a different bedroom than her last - though she could only see the ceiling from her immobilized position, the arching of magnificent branches and shimmering gems that bedecked their pale bark spoke of elegance far surpassing that of her previous quarters. She laid perfectly still, gazing into the starlight night that whispered through the trees. It reminded her of her home, Erulastiel realized suddenly, fighting tears that threatened to cloud her eyes and mar the beauty of the night, her home where glowing staircases of pure starlight wove around majestic trunks and wove their way upward into the nights. For the first time since leaving Lorien, she felt peaceful.
It was a short-lived serenity. More shouting issued from somewhere, muffled sounds reaching her ears.
"You forget yourself, Nestadon," Thranduil's voice oozed through the walls. "I am your king. Let me pass."
Erulastiel's stomach clenched. She could not face the elvenking now, not after his horrible actions, not after she was struck with an elven arrow upon his orders - speaking of which, she thought as she shifted her injured leg beneath the massive blankets, she seemed to be healing rather well. Perhaps her escape to Imladris would still be feasible; but right now she needed to focus on the conflict at hand. Simultaneously terrified and furious, she continued listening to the conversation, hoping this Nestadon would keep Thranduil at bay.
"I - I do recognize my disobedience, my king," responded Nestadon, his voice shaking with fear, "but she is in no condition to be receiving visitors, and I must insist - "
"Visitors?" Thranduil's question was full of deeper intent. "Am I an outsider within my own kingdom? We will speak no further, Nestadon. Step aside."
"You ordered her fired upon!" Nestadon had found his voice again. "Do you believe that she is in any mental state to receive you? Your very presence might bring on an attack of the darkness!"
Silence. Erulastiel realized that she had been straining to sit up on massive pillows in an attempt to understand their debate. As the voices ceased, she took the opportunity to gaze around the room, so ornately decorated that it nearly put her Lady mother and Lord father's best quarters to shame. Why had she been brought to this beautiful place - she, who had committed treason by Thranduil's own words?
"Do not presume to understand my motives, Nestadon. I will not ask you again. Step aside, or I will have you removed from your post."
Erulastiel knew that Thranduil would be entering her room. The elvenking was always obeyed - in person, at least, she thought, wondering with a sudden and deep sadness what had become of Maerdes and Thinelroch. They had risked disobeying the king to help her, and she hoped no harm had come to them. She would rather be pierced with a thousand elvish arrows than have harm come to those who had given her aid.
The door opened and Erulastiel closed off her thoughts. Thranduil quietly stepped in, locking the door behind him, and slowly walked toward her bedside. She was surprised at his appearance, so different from Maerdes's vision. His eyes were heavy and lined with exhaustion. No crown sat upon his golden head, and a massive silver cloak covered the deep red robes that he had worn upon her escape. Gently, he sat at the foot of her bed and gazed, unblinking, at her. Figuring she had nothing left to lose, Erulastiel looked deeply into his pained eyes, hoping to catch some glimpse of any deeper meaning. She was met with a fortified wall around his mind, and the elvenking shook his head and let a soft laugh escape his lips.
"Still fighting, little one. Do you remember what I told you the day we departed from your homeland? You are more powerful than you know," he smiled at her, a sad smile that did not reach his weary eyes.
Erulastiel did not understand. He had ordered her shot. He had attempted to drug her. He despised her gift and believed she represented an attack on his isolationist kingdom. Where did his sudden change in personality come from? She narrowed her eyes and launched an interrogation.
"Do you fear that my Lady mother knows of your actions, King Thranduil?" she asked, attempting to discern his motives. "Do you believe that treating me with kindness will change anything now?"
Thranduil stared at her, then rose swiftly and walked to the center of the massive room. He gazed up into the starlight and away from his kingdom, freed within the majesty of the night. With his back toward her, he ventured a return to her questions.
"Would you believe me, my Lady, if I confessed that my actions have sprung from desire to protect you?"
Erulastiel snorted, no longer attempting to act the gentlewoman. Istimiel would be displeased, she thought suddenly, but she had been dragged from her homeland and now lay injured. Now was not a time for manners.
"No, I would not," she responded.
Thranduil clasped his hands behind his back, but remained staring into the sky. She recognized his attempt to keep anger and emotion under control, and she waited for his next move. Slowly, he unclenched his hands and made his way to a small table that held a large decanter of wine. Pouring himself a goblet, the elvenking drank deeply and sighed heavily. Many moments passed before he spoke again.
"They are...selfish motives, I must admit," he said, beginning to pace the great length of the room. His silver cloak glittered beneath starlight as he slowly walked from shimmering wall and back. "A darkness lies at the edges of our world. It springs from the east, where foul things begin to take root. My kingdom will serve as the vanguard in the coming battles, and we will not prevail without aid."
He stopped pacing and turned his gaze upon Erulastiel. She held her breath as his powerful eyes, full of ice and blue and depths of his lands, moved closer again to her bedside as he walked her way with silent step. She knew the truth of his words. The darkness crept at the edges of Middle Earth as it lingered as the reaches of her mind, and both grew in power with each passing year. She waited for him to continue, and Thranduil waited until he had reached her side before speaking again.
"I know you have felt these things. Your...past battles...have left you scarred with the mark of the darkness," he said.
Lightly raising a hand and brushing aside her hair, Thranduil revealed the scar that ran from the base of her neck, down her left shoulder and onto her upper back. Erulastiel cringed and drew away from him. The scar was the source of the darkness that haunted her mind; it was a mark of evil an evil blade, evil so great that not even the greatest healers in Imladris had been able to remove it. The pale line etched itself permanently into her skin, and with it came the darkness that invaded her dreams. She had not realized that Thranduil had been informed of it. Unable to bring herself to look at Thranduil, she stared off into the distance, past the pale bark of shining trees.
"How did you learn of this?" she asked quietly.
"Your Lady mother revealed it to me years ago," he responded softly. "She had turned to me after Lord Elrond's healers had failed, hoping that my - experience - with dark scars would provide some medicine for her daughter." He laughed softly, a humorless laugh that held no light. "Clearly, she was mistaken."
Erulastiel turned back to him, her eyes full of question.
"You...you also carry a scar from the darkness?" she asked.
"I would not subject you to it now. Only know this, daughter of Galadriel: you are not alone in your battle against the great evil. We, we two stars thrown together in an impossible dance, share the common path. We are both fading lights amidst the blackness of the night. Your mother understood that only together would we stand any hope of defeating the darkness without and within."
Thranduil's eyes filled with passion. Erulastiel held her breath, amazed at the words that issued forth from his mouth. She still had so many questions, demands about his cold nature, about the vial in her drink, about the necessity of shooting an arrow into her leg, about his inability to tell her these things earlier. All of these thoughts weighed heavily upon her mind, a mind already succumbing again to the sleep of the injured. She attempted to speak, but all that came out was a poorly stifled yawn - a poor response to his poetic words. While Erulastiel still did not trust the elvenking, there was a sincerity to his story that attracted her interest, that connected her to his suffering. Thranduil noted her exhaustion and smiled.
"Rest now, little one," he said softly. "We will speak more on the morrow."
Something strange happened then. Erulastiel would attempt to explain it later, but it lacked all logic. As the elvenking gathered his great robes, his eyes again locked with hers, his deep blue gaze penetrating her thoughts. Starlight shone upon their faces, and everything and nothing happened as time suspended in that moment in the Woodland Realm. Slowly, the great King of the Greenwood lowered his shining head, and the daughter of Galadriel lifted hers, and their kiss met in a soft embrace that lasted within the flash of starlight.
And suddenly it was finished, and the elvenking stood quickly from her side. He nodded swiftly to her and left the quarters in a flourish of red and silver, and when everything was quiet and the starlight shone overhead, Erulastiel mused upon the taste of wine that had lingered on Thranduil's lips.
